The Breast Man
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Simply put: sexy times with our favourite pathologist and her detective. It's funny, sweet and a tiny bit hot, if I do say so. -one shot-


_There is no plot or redeeming value to the following story. It's just sexy good times. Huge thanks to MizJoely for betaing and lending a hand to the ending. I was stuck!_

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

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"Oh...oh...oh!" was all Molly could manage at the moment as the man she loved lavished her right breast with such tender kisses and licks that she felt like she was about to come undone. When his kisses turned into gentle, then _not_ so gentle sucking nips she had to bit her lip so hard she was afraid she was about to draw blood to stop her oncoming orgasm.

It had happened before, just not with Sherlock Holmes. Of course, they were experiencing all sorts of first as their relationships was a mere month old and Molly was doing her best to be patient with him. She had no intention of rushing things; considering how long it had taken them to get to this point it could be months before the man was ready for actual penetrative sex.

But damn, at the moment he was making that very difficult.

The first time she'd come from nipple stimulation alone, her uni boyfriend had looked at her like she was some kind of freak. She was young and _very_ impressionable and the experience was a bit damaging. Clearly, not all men appreciated an overly responsive woman. Many years later, when it had happened with Tom, she expressed her concern to him. Tom hypothesised that the aforementioned boyfriend might have thought she was faking and had taken offense. Orgasm by nipple sucking wasn't all that common, he explained, at least not in his sexual history. Molly was the first girl who'd ever actually come just because he'd pleasured her tits 'just right'.

That made sense to her. And although she didn't shy away from Tom's attention, she had with most of her other sexual partners; usually pulling away from them just as she felt her climax building. It was the best way to avoid another uncomfortable encounter.

He couldn't manage it often, but that didn't stop Tom from trying time to time and she had appreciated all his _hard work_. Sex was just about the only good memory she had of that failed relationship. It wasn't great, just… decent, she supposed.

How had she even contemplated marrying the man?

In fairness, on many (too many, frankly) occasions whilst her then fiancé was pleasuring her, Molly's mind would drift to another tall man. This man, however, had very dark hair and eyes that could never decide on a colour. His voice was much deeper than Tom's and it was commanding, with a bit of a domineering tone. His hands were calloused and sure, not fumbling or indecisive. While Tom tried his best to please her, Molly's mind had betrayed them both and every time it happened the guilt would set her nerves on edge.

Oh, how many times had Molly fantasised about Sherlock Holmes as her lovers had teased, licked and fucked her to completion? Those other men didn't stand a chance, did they?

Now, however, the man of her dreams was latched onto her - _oh, he's moved to the left!_ \- breast, sucking on her nipple as if he expected it to produce his beloved coffee (black, two sugars!).

 _Oh, God!_ She had to stop him. It felt like his lips were not only attached to her breast but as if there was a direct connection to her clit. _Fuck_! She didn't want him to stop! The war in her mind came to a quick yet explosive ceasefire, brought about by pleasure as Sherlock gently bit down on her nipple, flicking it with his tongue whilst his other hand dutifully played its twin like a damn Stradivarius!

Molly was basically too far gone to care this time; she couldn't stop her hands from cupping his head, holding it close to her chest. Nor could she stop herself from digging her nails into his scalp, which he obviously enjoyed if his humming was any indication.

Oh, yes… humming!

This only added more stimulation, sending her even closer to the edge. Faintly, in the back of her head, she felt like she should warn him, tell him she was about…

" **Nnnnghhh!** " Molly flew apart into a thousand tiny pieces. Some distant part of her was once again at war with the other more prevalent part; half angry that she'd let things go this far, half delighted that they had. Her body pulsed and she felt herself clench at nothing, wishing desperately Sherlock was buried inside her so she at least had _some_ excuse for her orgasm. Just because Tom had been fine (a bit more than fine, truth be told) with Molly's sensitive breasts, didn't mean…

"Did you just come?" he asked, alerting Molly to the change in their positioning. Sherlock had released her left nipple - obviously, since he was now speaking - from his mouth, though his hand was still pinching and pulling the right and he had leant up a bit.

She nodded, unable to speak just yet as she was coming back down for that glorious high.

He smiled like he'd just solved all the murders in the world with one perfect deduction. Then he stood, and quickly started unbuttoning his trousers, leaving his shirt on, much to Molly's chagrin. She hadn't gotten to see him naked yet and danmit, she wanted to!

"I knew it! I could feel you, Molly. You'd been on the edge for more than ten minutes. I was afraid you were going to have a stroke!" The bastard didn't remove his trousers, just sighed and mumbled something about 'breathing room' as he lowered the zip and palmed his (very!) obvious erection before kneeling at her feet. "I know you're not ready for sex and I respect that but please, Molly, let me have a taste!"

 _Holy mother_! He somehow managed to look desperate, vulnerable and dangerously erotic at the same time. Did he actually think she'd refuse him? _Silly, ridiculous man!_ "Of course, Sherlock. Whatever you want." _Why does he think I'm not ready..?_

He smirked evilly as he started on the button and zip of her sensible work trousers. Why hadn't she changed before coming over!? She wasn't even wearing her 'sex knickers' that she'd bought specifically for this occasion!

"I'd be careful with your wording if I were you," he said playfully, though something in his warning sounded quite serious. "Giving me carte blanche could be a _very_ big mistake, Molly Hooper." Her trousers were tossed onto the floor just before he reached for her knees, nudging them apart. He buried his face in her cotton-covered crotch and inhaled deeply causing Molly to gasp and her hips to involuntarily jerk up, meeting his nose almost painfully.

She couldn't stop the words, even knowing that asking could ruin the mood, she had to know if his beautiful nose was okay. "Did I hurt you?" she gasped.

After several more seconds of… sniffing, he raised his head, a sinful smile on his lips. "I assure you that your lovely cunt did me no harm."

 _For the love of… did he just say cunt?_

He traced the damp spot on the gusset with two fingers. "I can't say the same for these knickers. They appear to be ruined." Hooking his thumbs under the sides of the garment, he tugged. Once free of her legs, he shoved them into his pocket. "I believe I shall keep them; a token, if you will." He then moved her right leg over his shoulder and propped her left on the edge of the settee.

Molly was once again on edge as she watched his methodical preparation. The removal of her clothes had been slow and deliberate. She was burning for him, feeling like she was about to come again even if he didn't touch her at all. The look on his face was enough to drive her mad with want!

"That little trick, I assume that wasn't the first time you've experienced orgasm by breast stimulation."

It was somewhere between a statement and a question, but she still felt the need to answer. "Ah, no," she said a bit breathlessly. "How..?"

He stroked her inner thighs, first the left then the right, with the tips of his fingers. "You weren't shocked when you climaxed, but for some reason, you looked… ashamed. Why is that, Molly?"

His touch was distracting, to say the least, but she tried to focus and answer him. "Umm, some men don't… they seem to think it's… odd."

The look on his face went from devilishly sexy to confused in a heartbeat. " _What_? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. How could an orgasm - any orgasm, especially yours - be odd?" His thumb ghosted, almost absently over her outer lips as he looked across the room and seemed to be processing the new information. "Are all men complete idiots? Well, of course they are, but when it comes to pleasure shouldn't their egos override their normal tendencies of stupidity?"

"Not all of them," Molly explained, then gasped as thumb brushed against her clitoris. His eyes returned to hers, so she continued with her explanation. "Tom really enjoyed it and frequently…"

"I'd rather not hear about _all the sex_ you had with the Meat Dagger, Molly. The first time you mentioned it I had to reboot my damn hard drive!" He fairly growled out the last of the sentence. "You have been a perplexing problem for years, you know." His eyes traveled down her body, drinking in every inch of bared flesh. "Telling me that you were actually sleeping with the buffoon... " This time he did growl. "Somehow I'd convinced myself that you two weren't engaging in coitus. Then you had to..."

"Sherlock! We were engaged, for God's sake!"

" _Don't_ remind me," he snapped, his eyes focused on her centre. "We've gotten off topic. Needless to say, I don't want you to hold back with me, Molly. I'm not the least bit put off by your… sensitivity." He leant down and kissed her inner thigh, pulling a gasp from her mouth. "As a matter of fact, I expect you to hold nothing back." He continued to pepper kisses along her thighs, her hips and the top of her mound, basically everywhere he could reach other than where she wanted him the most. "Nothing at all."

She was writhing - actually writhing! - in a wanton display of neediness, her breath hitching every time he got close to her centre. " _Sh-Sherlock_ ," she whimpered, closing her eyes, unable to watch him anymore. The visual was almost as stimulating as the tactile experience.

He chuckled against her skin, the bastard, and continued torturing her with his tongue and lips. After several minutes, two or three if she had to guess - which felt like hours! - he said, "Look at me, Molly."

Opening her eyes, she found him staring up from between her legs, grinning like mad. Her tormentor was very satisfied with himself if that smirk was anything to go by. She couldn't take much more. "Please," she begged.

"Of course," he answered smoothly. "Just wanted to make sure you were with me and not still thinking about _him_." His voice had a slight edge to it. "Your mind keeps drifting, Molly. I know I'm a bit rusty, but…"

Her response left her mouth before she could even consider the words. "It's only fair, Sherlock, since I spent most of that relationship fantasising about _you_."

He pulled a few inches away from her, his face unreadable.

 _Fuckity-fuck_! Was he mad? Disturbed? Squicked out? _Shit_! Why wasn't he saying anything? "Sherlock..?"

"You were thinking about me while you were fucking… _him_?"

Well, the beans were already spilled, weren't they? She nodded in response as she felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"I probably shouldn't be as pleased as I am to hear that, but I don't think I care," he said, his face morphing to a look of utter smugness. "I must insist on knowing _why_ , however, you were thinking about him just now."

"I wasn't, or I was, but that was earlier," she stumbled out her explanation. "Just now I was thinking… well, trying _not_ think about what you looked like… between my…" She huffed. "Oh, nevermind!" Closing her eyes again, she tried to get her brain to function with some efficiency. It was a hopeless cause. Sherlock was about to go down on her and she felt like she'd ruined it. Why were they chatting so damn much?!

Feeling him shift, she opened her eyes to see him hovering right above her. The smirk was gone, replaced with a look of such affection that it caused Molly's chest to constrict. "Stop, Molly," he said quietly. "You haven't ruined anything. While I've never been… especially loquacious during intercourse before, I quite like bantering with you. It seems we have much to learn about each other." He cupped her face, running his thumb across her bottom lip. "Now, where were we?"

Surely that question was rhetorical…

"What do you want me to do to you, Molly?" he asked, then dropped feather-light kisses along her chin, jaw and cheek, finally capturing her lips with his and rendering her incapable of speech. She met his tongue with her own as she grabbed onto his head, holding it steady. What she wanted was for him to stop tormenting her and shag her already, but kissing was a nice pitstop.

When he pulled away, he trailed his lips down her neck, pausing only to suck and bite her clavicle. Both of his hands found her breasts again; pushing them together, he closed his lips around her right nipple, sucking hard, then moving quickly to the left. For a part of her anatomy that he'd once found lacking, Sherlock seemed to really enjoy her tits! Once again, Molly's mouth ran away from her, or it must have…

Sherlock chuckled against her flesh, then released her with a soft plop. "I have _never_ had a problem with your measurements, Molly." Pinching both nipples at the same time, he looked up. "If I was to analyse my behaviour that evening, I'd most likely find that I was a bit jealous of you displaying yourself so… enticingly for the nameless man I thought you were meeting after. Also, I _might_ discover, if I were to really ponder that night, that I didn't appreciate John and George's responses when you removed your coat." He tried to look innocent (though he failed), as he added, "That is _if_ I were to analyse myself. Not that I have."

 _Possessive git!_ Thankfully, this time Molly managed to keep inner monologue to herself.

"Didn't I ask you a question? You seem to be having problems focusing this evening, Doctor." Then the cheeky bugger had the nerve to wink before returning to her breasts.

 _Question? What..?_ Oh yes, something about what she wanted him to do to her. What indeed, the possibilities were endless!

Within seconds he had Molly squirming once again, and far beyond rational thought. But Sherlock didn't let up, he just kept licking and sucking her to oblivion. After a couple of minutes, she realised that he was trying to make her come again. _Greedy bastard!_ She'd never managed more than one orgasm _that way_ before and it had only happened a handful of times to begin with. It wasn't something that always worked, usually, the surprise of it was what caused…

"OH MY GOD!" she gasped, suddenly overtaken with pleasure. Once again, the concentrated suction of Sherlock's mouth went straight to her pussy. "Oh… Oh… Oh!" The feeling continued as he switched sides, applying the exact same pressure as he had before, drawing her climax out somehow. It felt like it was never going to end.

Then, quick as lightning, he shifted back to his previous position and latched onto her clit with no preamble. Molly's hips suddenly had a mind of their own and rose off of the cushion without consulting her at all. Sherlock growled in response and not so gently pushed her back down, holding her with one firm arm as she felt a finger, or perhaps two enter swollen passage. She was so overly sensitive from already coming twice that the intrusion felt like sweet torture, mixing pleasure and pain in perfect portions.

She shouted out several expletives as he rubbed her g-spot whilst pushing down gently on her stomach. Detaching himself from her, he looked up. "I have never felt a tighter pussy, you sexy fucking woman! It's taking all, and I do mean _all_ of my willpower not to plow into you right now!"

His voice sounded as desperate as she felt. God, she wanted to come again, and she was close, but this time she wanted him buried deep inside her. _Decision made!_ Whatever gave Sherlock the idea that she wasn't ready for sex was about to be disproved! _Sometimes he just gets it wrong!_

Molly reached down between her legs, and wrapping her hand around his wrist, she pulled his fingers out of nearly convulsing pussy. The look on Sherlock's face was priceless and one she'd treasure for the rest of her life. He was clearly dumbfounded. She'd shocked him! Feeling pretty proud of herself for achieving _that_ , Molly decided to take it one step further…

Sitting up, she brought his dripping wet fingers to her mouth and licked them clean as Sherlock sat, mouth agape, watching her ever so closely. When she finished the clean-up, she pulled the digits away from her lips and said, "I want you inside me… now! Not your fingers, not your tongue. Your cock. Is that clear enough?" She'd never felt so powerful before in her life. It didn't even compare to her first autopsy which, up until that moment, had been her most exhilarating - not to mention nerve-wracking - memory.

Sherlock finally snapped out of his stupor and jumped to his feet, this time pulling his shirt off over his head, then getting to work on his trousers. As he kicked them aside, he asked, "Bed?"

Molly didn't answer, simply pulled his boxer-briefs down, letting them pool at his ankles before taking his cock in hand and slowly working it. Sherlock's hips jerked forward as he made an unmanly whine. She had to hold back the giggle that threatened to escape. _Never laugh at a man whilst holding his cock in your hands,_ she advised herself and instead closed the distance, bringing the bulbous head of his erection to her lips.

"OH FUCK, Molly! You can't!" he exclaimed, even as his fingers threaded through her hair, holding her head firmly in place.

Understanding his predicament, she tightened her hold on the base of his penis and continued to draw him further into her mouth. _You may know how to suck nipples, but I know a thing or two about sucking cock!_ She was riding high on the power it gave her, feeling invincible and daring as she cupped his bollocks with her free hand, giving them a tug.

" _Please_!" he begged. "Ahh, I, oh fuck, love what you're doing, but you have to stop!"

The moan that accompanied his request went straight to her centre and she decided to give in. Releasing him, she sat back and looked up at him. "Have a seat, Sherlock," she instructed.

He complied immediately, flopping down on the settee with little to no grace whatsoever.

Molly stood and moved between his splayed knees. "Do you have a condom?" she asked as she leaned down, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Sherlock's eyes were focused on her breasts as he seemed to struggle for an answer. "Ahh, no." He glanced up at her face for a fraction of a second, then right back to her chest. "But I got tested before our first date…"

That was presumptuous of him!

"And I know you're clean and on the pill, so…"

Molly raised an eyebrow.

"The paperwork's in my top desk drawer if…"

Planting a knee on either side of his hips, she cut him off with a kiss. Oh God, she could feel his hard length rubbing at her folds as she adjusted herself over him. "I trust you, Sherlock," she managed before reaching down and getting him into position. "Ready?"

"Bloody fucking hell, Molly! I've been ready since… _Gahhh_! Yes, yes I'm ready, very much ready!"

She was unable to hide her smirk as she finally lowered herself on him, slowly taking him in, inch by glorious inch. Oh, he filled her so perfectly, wrenching a long low moan from her throat that didn't stop until he was fully seated. Molly took a deep breath, not moving yet, just getting used to the feel of being completely wrapped around him. Several seconds later, she opened her eyes to find Sherlock staring at her, a very strange look on his face.

Setting aside her arousal for a moment in favour of finding out just what the hell was wrong, she asked, "Are you okay?" As she did, she rose up, causing him to slip out of her a couple of inches.

He didn't answer; instead, he grabbed her hips, arching up, driving himself back into her. Molly fell forward a bit, but steadied herself on the back of the sofa. Almost instantly she felt his lips again; he had taken her nipple into his mouth and was sucking just as hard as before, maybe harder.

She was nearly mindless with the numerous sensations she was feeling: his cock inside her, his lips on her skin, his hands roughly gripping and kneading her buttocks. She was finally, totally, and completely joined with the man she loved and it felt fucking fantastic.

" _Yes_ ," Sherlock said, releasing her nipple. "Fucking fantastic is one - _oh, God!_ \- way to put it."

Gripping the back of her head, he drew her in for a kiss, his tongue sliding in her mouth, mimicking his cock, and Molly ground down on him harder, pressing her clit against his pubic bone.

That was it! Her orgasm once again caught her by surprise (for the third time in less than an hour!) and she was suddenly only aware of pleasure. Nothing existed except Sherlock fucking Holmes and his lovely fucking cock. She was vaguely aware of his voice as he climaxed, calling out her name and a litany of curse words, some of which she didn't know the meaning of.

She collapsed, letting her head fall to his sweaty shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. _Best sex ever! Who knew Sherlock Holmes was a breast man?_ she wondered as she absently traced patterns on his chest.

"I'm not a breast man, Molly," he said as he shifted them, laying down with her on his chest.

Molly giggled. She couldn't seem to keep her thoughts to herself tonight.

"I do believe I'm just partial to yours."

Her eyes glinted with sudden humor. "Lucky for me that you're the breast man for the job."

She wasn't sure if he was still high on endorphins or if he was just getting soft, but Sherlock broke out into a fit of laughter, gently pushing her to the side and rolling off of the sofa.

Once he was on his feet, he leant down, kissing her forehead. "God, I love you!" he said sweetly before walking to the loo.

 _Yes_ , she thought contentedly. _Breast man ever!_

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 _All done! Hope you liked it! Leave me a review and make my day! ~Lil~_


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